


Love and Hangovers

by Ashbashcrashed



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: And I have changed it and made it better (imo), But I have moved on to here, F/M, Rape and Underage are brief mentions, but just in case, this was on FanFiction.net
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 12:57:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8144866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashbashcrashed/pseuds/Ashbashcrashed
Summary: Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia are inevitable. Now he just has to convince her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Criminal Minds or its characters. I own my fictional bartender, Chrissy.

“The FBI are missing a trick, making you wear clothes everywhere,” Penelope Garcia told Derek Morgan in her best matter-of-fact tone. She hid a grin at the face he pulled.  
“Baby girl, it’s not just the FBI who demand I stay clothed. There’s all kinds of decency laws.” She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.  
“Hot stuff, there’s all kinds of indecent things about you wearing clothes, and not wearing them.”  
He smirked. “I’m very decent with my clothes off. Come round tonight, I’ll show you just how decent I am.”  
She smiled softly, the game losing its fun. “Promises, promises.” She said, turning her eyes back to her computer screens.  
Derek was about to tell her he was a man who kept his promises when Aaron Hotchner rang. He sounded awful, Derek could only just work out that he was telling him ‘Wheels up in 20’.  
The job came first. It always did. But he would find a way to keep his promise later.

 

Aaron Hotchner and David Rossi were incredibly hungover.  
“It was a Friday night!” Rossi explained to his childish, childish co-workers. Hotch was holding his head in his hands.  
“We expected this from Rossi, not you.” Jennifer ‘JJ’ Jareau had her arms crossed, acting stern and disappointed. Her bright smile and occasional giggle ruined the effect. Hotch stuck his middle finger up at her—which set off a new round of laughter—and almost immediately after had to run to the toilet.  
He made it in time, and the sound of vomit landing made Dr. Spencer Reid and JJ flinch, while Emily Prentiss, Rossi and Morgan snickered.  
It was at this point that Penelope Garcia was tagged into the conversation, and it was a moment she knew she would cherish for all time.  
“You alright, boss man?” she called. He groaned from the floor, vomiting again. The team was too busy laughing to be of much use to their boss, but Rossi reassured her that he would be fine. She told them that another little girl had gone missing.  
The journey was long, and this news sobered the team up. Efforts to learn the case inside out and do their best to create a profile redoubled. By the time they landed, both Hotch and Rossi were feeling better, and they were collectively ready to face the unsub.

But not ready enough.

Over thirty little girls in a five year period had been abducted, repeatedly sexually abused and murdered—once they had turned ten, and were too old.  
It took them two days to track the unsub down.  
It was quick, but it was nowhere near quick enough. Thirty girls too late.  
Seven girls, ranging in age from five to nine were still alive, still there. They rescued them, but all of them would never be the same again.

 

The ride home was silent and still.  
JJ, Hotch and Rossi were openly crying.  
Prentiss wanted to cry, but couldn’t. She wouldn’t until she was home, safe with Sergio. Not until she was in the shower, washing off every single memory, of every single body, of every single little girl, raped and broken and dead, or raped and broken and somehow still living, and reliving it, again and again and again, off of her.  
Reid was in shock. He wanted a hit. He wanted to forget. But he knew that wasn’t what he should do. Remembering was painful. But there were a lot of little girls out there who could never forget, and for their sake he too would remember. If he sunk back into oblivion he wouldn’t be able to help save people. He just wanted to save people.  
Derek felt empty and bitter and sad. And so, so tired. How many more Carl Bufords were in the world? How many more times would he have to confront his abuser? How many more times would he have to look young children in the eyes and see what he saw in himself in there? He was sad, and tired. He was too sad and tired to even feel angry, though he was. He was always angry. But tonight, after the crap they had just been through, after the crap so many little ones were still going through, he needed something more.

He needed love.

And he realised, perhaps too late—he was always too late when it came to love—that that was what he had needed all along. That was what he had been trying to find all along. Something to fill that emptiness, to combat the bitterness, the anger, the sadness, the overwhelming exhaustion that never left his side, and never let him sleep properly. Love. And he knew just where to look for it. Had known all along.  
Penelope Garcia and Derek Morgan were inevitable. Now he just had to prove it to her.

 

The jet landed and the team linked arms; Rossi, JJ and Hotch, and Reid, Prentiss and Morgan. They stumbled, like they were already drunk, to the bar they frequented on nights like this. Morgan saw Penelope waiting for them outside and unlinked with Prentiss and Reid, falling into her waiting embrace.  
Her beautiful eyes were bright with tears, her hair flat against her face for once. She lacked her usual bounce, her happiness, her glow. Prentiss realised that if Garcia looked as crappy as that, they were hideous.  
Looking around, she confirmed her suspicions: they all looked as terrible as she felt.  
They got some stares as they walked into the bar. They didn’t usually, but seven FBI agents walking in that close to closing and looking that crap? That was odd. The bartender, Chrissy, glanced at them and nodded. Mentally she began preparing for a long night.  
Penelope realised Derek was still holding onto her. He had ended their embrace so they could manoeuvre around the bar, but he kept his hands on her. When they sat, he leaned into her, resting his head on her shoulder. He needed bodily comfort.  
She wasn’t going to stop him, or tell him to back off. They were such close friends, had been for so long. And this case had been so tough, and it was children. Children hit them all too close to home.  
They drank largely in silence. It was enough to be together as a family tonight.  
The bar emptied quickly, but they drank at a slow, sombre pace. Chrissy had made it clear that while she put up with crap from the FBI, civilians were still getting kicked out at her regular time. She kept a close eye on the group, bringing their drinks time and time again.  
Having a business to run didn’t stop her from wanting to tell them that they wouldn’t find what they were looking for at the bottom of their bottles—or shot glasses.  
Just as Chrissy was about to kick them out, the group disbanded. They paid up, with Rossi leaving a very generous tip. Through the fog of hurt and liquor he had realised the time.  
They filed out, Derek’s arms now around Penelope again. Hotch, JJ and Prentiss piled into a cab together. Hotch’s was on the way to JJ’s, where Emily would be passing out in the spare room. She had a change of clothes there—this was a somewhat frequent occurrence.

Rossi started trying to convince Reid to get into the next cab with him.  
“No, really, it’s fine, I can wait for another—” Rossi scowled, tugging on his arm.  
“None of us should be alone right now,” he informed the younger man. Spencer scowled, yanking his arm back. He didn’t want to be babied. Rossi changed tactics.  
“You’d be doing me a favour,” he told the kid—even though Reid was in his thirties, he would always be the kid—gruffly. Reid stopped struggling and they got into the cab together. Penelope and Derek smiled softly, listening to the two bickering even as the car was driving off.

“Let me walk you home,” Derek offered with that same small smile. His mouth hurt; it didn’t know what kind of contortion he was making it perform, but it wanted him to stop and never try again. Penelope nodded, took his hand in hers and they walked, slightly unsteadily in the direction of her apartment.

 

People were surprised Penelope had decided to stay in her apartment after she had been shot outside it. It had been weird at first, walking past the spot each day. But Battle would have loved it if she had died. She wasn’t about to be bullied out of her apartment—she paid the rent, not him.

She liked to think that if Battle could somehow see her, then he would be completely dissatisfied. She had thought about moving before she was shot; now she was determined to live there. She thought about toning her look down—instead she amped it up. She tired herself out working with the BAU and two other teams on a permanent basis, helping other teams when she could. She ran survivors groups. She counselled. She ran herself ragged, but good. The next bastard who tried to murder her for doing her job, and doing it damned well, could kiss her beautiful ass.

And it was a beautiful ass. She told herself that every day after the shooting, until she believed it. She had become more confident, more bubbly, more happy, and crazy good and crazy weird. Being shot was a testament to how hard she was rocking her job.

Sure, she wasn’t the girl that men wrote songs about after seeing her across the room in a smoky bar. She’d never liked smoky bars, anyway.  
She’d had Kevin for a while. That had built her confidence back up. Then there was Sam, and after Sam was Steve, then Todd, then Brian. All of them meant well, but there was nothing there. All of them were sweet, but sweet wasn’t enough.  
There were no sparks.  
Kevin had never understood why she kept the apartment, why she would never move in with him, why she couldn’t marry him. Kevin had probably been a mistake. Worse, Kevin subconsciously knew he had been a mistake. Worst of all, he undoubtedly knew she was in love with her best friend, in a way she could never be with him.

“Well, this is me.” She said. She winced internally. No shit, Cap’n Obvious!  
She waited for Derek to tease her redundancy, but the teasing never came. He looked at her, haunted and sad and lonely looking. The lack of teasing, the general lack of response, made her feel nervous.  
“Do you want to come in?” She tried. Anything to break his silence.  
“Please.” It was so quiet she could barely hear it, but she nodded and opened her door. They were still holding hands, so it took a little longer than normal. She didn’t mind.  
He followed her in. “You want some coffee?” she asked, breaking contact with him so she could take her coat off and hang it up, and then pulling off her shoes with a yawn.  
“I’ll make it,” he said. He was trying to smile but failing. “It’s not like I don’t know where everything is.”

Penelope laughed. “That’s what you think. How do you know I’ve not moved everything since the last time you were here, just to confuse you?”  
“You’d be too confused too,” he pointed out. This time he managed the smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Still, it was a start. She left him to sort out the coffee, and got changed in her room. It was a relief to get out of her clothes. She had stayed in the office for the last two days, hadn’t really slept, hadn’t changed, had barely eaten anything.  
As though her stomach had just gotten the memo, it grumbled. Loudly. Derek—the ass—laughed, just as loudly from her kitchen.  
“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” she called, grumbling but not unhappy. “Haven’t eaten in a while, alright?”

“I’ll make something.” Derek said. His voice was far closer. She turned and saw he was standing just outside her room. She wasn’t naked, just half-naked. She was too tired to blush, and finished changing into her comfiest pyjamas. He had moved back to the kitchen, to carry on making coffee and food. He was a guest. She should be doing that.  
“Hey, I should be doing that,” she moved to help him, but he shook his head and shooed her.  
“Let me.” So, she did. She could never say no to him.

Penelope cleared her couch and the coffee table—usually she was a bit of a neat freak, but tonight she was too tired. She dumped everything on the floor, yawning again.  
Derek came over with coffee, water, cookies, and two plates of leftover lasagne. She barely muttered a thank you, devouring the lasagne, draining the water, and then moving onto the coffee. She dunked the cookies in, feeling much better already. She didn’t have the time or energy to feel bad, guilty or embarrassed about the way she was demolishing her food. She knew Derek was doing the same, and they were best friends. They’d seen each other in worse conditions. Hell, he’d just seen her half naked.

“Sweet dreams, baby girl.” He kissed her cheek chastely, turning slightly away from her afterwards. He couldn’t bring himself to go far, but he was trying to keep up appearances, albeit shoddily. He liked sleeping next to her. He wanted the comfort too. It had been such a shitty case. Regardless of the case, he wanted to fall asleep by her side and wake up next to her each and every morning. She had mumbled something in return that might have been ‘you too’, but equally could have been ‘let’s get a zoo.’ They were both way over their respective limits--of alcohol, of sleep deprivation.

Derek was just drifting off to sleep when Penelope burst out laughing, rolling into him and shaking in her fit of laughter.  
“Breathe,” he commanded with a smile. He laughed too—how could he help it, when her giggles were infectious? “What’s so funny?”  
“Incest,” Penelope said, through a gasp of laughter.  
“Incest?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. “What…”  
“Our little family. Hotch is dad, Gideon was mom. Rossi’s our new step-mom, who occasionally flirts with the kids until dad puts an end to it.”  
They both laughed, recalling the stern talking-to Hotch had given Rossi for flirting with JJ.  
“Jayje and Em are my sisters, Elle’s the very long-lost cousin. And Reid is my kid brother. But you… you’re like, a hot cousin twice removed or something. I don’t know. We’re family, but not in that way, yaknow?” Derek grinned.  
“Yeah, you’re my hot twice removed cousin too. Definitely don’t see you as a sister.”  
“Right!” Penelope grinned, leaning her chin on her hand, her head moving closer to his. “You’re my best friend, and family, but it wouldn’t be weird if we kissed or anything.”  
“Exactly,” Derek replied, moving slightly closer to her. “It wouldn’t be weird or incestuous if we kissed.”  
“No, not weird at al—” Their lips met, though neither was sure who started it. Penelope sighed into the kiss, every fibre of her body screaming one word repeatedly: finally.  
Derek used her sigh to part her lips gently with his tongue, deepening the kiss slowly, sweetly. Her arms wound their way around his neck, bringing him closer.  
In fact, everything they were doing was about getting as close as they possibly could. Derek grasped her lower back with one hand, the other moving to her hair and stroking it lovingly.  
They broke apart to breathe. Both were smiling, content. “Now that was a good night kiss,” Penelope said, her voice shaky. Best kiss of her life? Definitely.  
“I’ll say,” Derek said. He looked so genuinely happy, relaxed and comfortable, that she had to reach out and kiss him again.  
And again.  
And again.

 

“Good morning, princess.”  
“I’ll show you a goo’ morning, hot stuff.” Penelope muttered through a yawn, keeping her eyes shut in preparation for the onslaught of the Evil Glowing Orb.  
“If you opened your eyes, you’d be having an even better morning,” Derek told her, a teasing lilt in his deep voice.  
“The Evil Glowing Orb, mittens.”  
“Mittens? That’s a new one. You’re su-uper hung-over,” the sing song in his tone made her want to barf. Preferably all over him. He was sickeningly cheerful after his morning run, as always.  
“I love you, but you need to stop.” She commanded gruffly. Her head was banging.  
“You should love me,” he informed her. “Wake up and smell the coffee, baby girl.” She opened one eye instantly.  
“Coffee?” She opened the other eye, and saw a cup of what looked like her favourite sugary, caffeinated beverage. “Did you remember the shot of syrup?” Penelope croaked, reaching her hands out for the cup impatiently. Derek frowned.  
“Did I remember—you really doubt me? I’m hurt. Dearest, I got you a triple-shot. Ow, grabby.” He said, rolling his eyes as she snatched the drink from him, gulping half of it down in one go. She moaned, he smirked.  
“I really do love you,” she said with a small smile, diving back into the coffee. When she was finished, she finally looked him over properly, realising he was half naked. A towel—her towel—wrapped low around his waist.  
She was glad she hadn’t noticed that while drinking the coffee. She might have choked on it. But hey, then he would have had to administer mouth to mouth…  
“Earth to Penelope,” Derek said, waving his hand in front of her, grinning at her glazed over eyes.  
“Come back to bed, handsome.” She invited, a smirk flirting with her lips. Lips that he should be kissing. Pretending to bow, he hastily joined her on the bed, linking their lips together and settling in for a good make-out session.

 

The thumb war had been going strong for ten minutes before Penelope abruptly stopped.  
“What are we doing?”  
“We’re having a thumb war. Or we were,” he claimed her motionless thumb with his, pressing it down. “until I won.” He crowed, looking so adorable she smiled.  
“You did win, and I’m so very proud of you.” She said in the kind of voice he had heard her use with Jack and Henry.  
“Hey!” he cried. “Don’t patronize me.” He pouted. Penelope burst out laughing.  
“You always fall for that, you big lump.”  
He growled. “What, and now you’re gonna make fun of my body? I’m very insecure.” She snickered.  
He pulled a face. “Alright, alright. But I could have been insecure. You shouldn’t comment on appearances unless you have something nice to say.” He informed her, sounding very prissy.

She snickered again, and he fell on her, tickling her until she was laughing so hard she was crying, completely unable to fight him off.  
He pulled her wrists above her head in one of his hands, and showered her face with small kisses. She got her breath back, but he kept her under him. “We,” kiss on the forehead. “Are,” kiss on her left eyelid. “A,” kiss on her right eyelid. “Couple.” Then he kissed her on the lips, soft and gentle.  
As she relaxed into the kiss he ended it, letting her wrists go and unstraddling her. She made a noise of protest at the loss of contact.

“Unless you don’t want to—to be with me, that is. I mean, I would understand if you didn’t want to, it’s just I thought you wanted me that way too, and I know it probably wasn’t the right time, but I tried to tell you earlier and then there was a case and then the case was—“ Penelope put her hand over his mouth.  
“Woah, stud. Slow down. I do. Want to be a couple, I mean. With you.” He kissed her hand, and she replaced it with her mouth. He broke away, causing her to groan.  
“Fair warning,” Derek told her with a grin. “Now that I’ve got you I’m not letting you go.”  
Penelope grinned back. “Good.”

They resumed kissing, more passionately than they had before. There was still the romance of their previous kisses, but this time there was also a desperation and need in them. Six years of knowing each other, six years of foreplay. This was beyond the three date rule she usually stuck to.  
Derek pulled away again. “I love you, you know. I’ve just realised I hadn’t said that even once. I love you.” She grinned, then pulled him back down to her, impatient to kiss him again. Now that she had him she wanted him forever.

Derek had other ideas.  
“I love you! And you love me!” He told her happily, like she hadn’t just been there with him the entire time. Penelope growled, pushing him down. She straddled him before he could protest.  
“I never figured you for a babbler. No more talking, stud.” He gulped, his eyes darkening with passion.  
“Yes ma’am.”

Penelope reclaimed his lips, content now that the only time his lips left hers were so he could touch her neck, her ears, her back.

Or when their tops were coming off.

Or when he was kissing her chest, her stomach, her hips. Special attention was paid to her scar.

And finally, finally, he used his mouth to worship her, not stopping until she came undone beneath him, crying his name.

She was eager to repay him.

He was eager to finally show her just how decent he was without his clothes on.


End file.
